Sarah was technically too old to need a babysitter, so I guess Sally was really more like her chaperone. I'm sure the way Sarah's mom (Sally's sister) had put it was: "See if you can keep her out of trouble." Sarah had a bad habit of inviting way too many people over on the nights her mom worked and not leaving herself enough time to get rid of the evidence. Sarah was a bit young and naïve and hadn't quite gotten to the point where she was learning from her mistakes. The problem with putting Sally in charge was that she came from the same genetics. She liked to party, too, so her way of keeping Sarah out of trouble was probably going to be helping her to not get caught.
I was a senior in high school and Sally had just graduated the previous year, so we knew each other, though we didn't hang around with the same crowd. She was the fodder of fantasies – tall and brunette with big boobs and an ass that looked outstanding in a pair of Levi's. Plus, she had a bit of a reputation as a wild thing. I was pleased that night for the opportunity to admire Sally, but I wasn't really expecting anything more than a little flirting. It appeared as though Sally had at least convinced Sarah to limit the number of people she had over. Luckily, Jim, Rob and I all made the cut. Sarah's best friend, Kim, was there, too, but that was it. We started out just sitting around the kitchen drinking beer, initially unsure of what Sally was going to be open to. It ended up being fine, though, just hanging out and talking.
At some point, I was doodling on a notepad that was sitting on the table and jotted down a cheesy love note and passed it to Sally. It was meant to be funny, but a little flirtatious, too, just to see her reaction. I figured she'd laugh and share it with everyone else, but even when she was asked what I'd written, she said that it was private. She wrote something on the same sheet of paper and passed it back to me. Her reply was equally cheesy and equally flirtatious, so I kept it equally private. I thought for a minute or so, then composed a reply and passed it back to her. Around the table, the conversation and alcohol consumption continued; the others weren't distracted by our little game. Sally and I became engrossed, though, as our flirting escalated and the language of our note got more and more suggestive.
Eventually, everyone else drifted out of the kitchen and to other parts of the apartment, leaving us alone with our diversion. When we realized that we were alone and no one seemed to be coming back, we looked into each other's eyes and I reached out and took her hand while she ran her foot up and down along my leg. We leaned toward each other and kissed, our kisses becoming progressively more passionate until we were making out. Without stopping, we slid our chairs closer together and I moved my hand down to her knee while my other arm rested on the back of her chair. Had Sally been wearing a skirt, I would have slid my hand right up under it at that point. Since she was wearing snug Levi's, I decided against slipping a hand between her legs and instead ventured up to her waist on my way to her tits. As we continued making out, I briefly paused my hand just above her hip before sliding it up over her ribs to cup her sizeable right breast. I was surprised and pleased to realize that she was not wearing a bra. This meant two things: easier access and that those big things were standing up firmly with no assistance! I was impressed, but, again, she was only nineteen at the time.
Since I got no resistance from Sally, I fondled her breast through her shirt, feeling her hard nipple protruding as I did. After a bit, I unbuttoned a couple of buttons in the middle of her shirt and slipped my hand inside. The flesh of her breast was smooth and soft, but her nipple was large and hard. I ran my hand over the smooth flesh and her hard nipple while also feeling the surprising weight of her large breast. Sally had started moaning softly when I started fondling her breast, so I got the sense that she was totally into this. I, myself, had a steel rod in my pants and was anxious to free it.
"We really ought to get out of these clothes," I murmured in her ear.
"I can't," she replied, "I have to watch Sarah."
"Sarah's a big girl," I responded, "she can take care of herself."
"I don't know," she seemed torn between responsibility and desire, "I don't want to set a bad example." This from the "babysitter" who had been drinking beer with her charge just a little while earlier. I decided to try a different approach.
